


a beautiful wreck, a colourful mess

by cardeloons



Category: Dead To Me (TV)
Genre: F/F, Judy decides to try a new style of painting, Smut, it's a bit soft too, maybe she needs some help, she's inspired by orgasms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:01:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27191422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cardeloons/pseuds/cardeloons
Summary: "The inspiration for Judy’s first adventure into abstract art came to her late one night, a hand working tirelessly between her own thighs. What better experience to depict through a vast array of colours and shapes than orgasms?"
Relationships: Judy Hale/Jen Harding
Comments: 27
Kudos: 69





	a beautiful wreck, a colourful mess

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to the very lovely pals who provided much appreciated inspiration and motivation while I wrote this! and a special shoutout to the always magnificent @bgaydocrimes for beta-ing this
> 
> disclaimer: I know almost nothing about art/painting so please just roll with it. also this is my first attempt writing smut.
> 
> title from honey by kehlani

The inspiration for Judy’s first adventure into abstract art came to her late one night, a hand working tirelessly between her own thighs. What better experience to depict through a vast array of colours and shapes than orgasms?

Judy had been searching for ways to expand her repertoire and she had always enjoyed staring endlessly at the bright, messy tangles of lines on a canvas, scoping out her own interpretation of what the tones and shapes convey. Judy loves nothing more than the thrill of connecting to a piece of art on a personal, emotional level.

Already Judy had created four pieces, each one completely different from the last. She had set out to illustrate through this series how orgasms can feel endlessly unique and so far she was quietly pleased with her success. 

Judy thinks that creating the paintings while immersed in the experience itself was a truly inspired idea, if she does say so herself.

It’s a relaxing Saturday afternoon in the guest house and, eager to get started on her next piece, Judy picks up her paintbrush to begin. She dips it in the same deep purple colour of the dildo standing proudly on the stool below her. Raising her brush as she lowers herself down, Judy slowly takes the dildo to the hilt, the pleasant stretch inside becoming a thick spiral outwards on the canvas. 

Each rock of her body is met with a sharp burst of colour on the canvas, the strokes becoming thicker as her hips become more certain in their movements. Judy is beginning to get lost in the mosaic of brush strokes scattering across her canvas when suddenly the door to the guest house opens. 

“Hey Jude, do y–”, Jen barges in but stops speaking abruptly, a question lurking somewhere in her eyes.

Judy thanks whichever goddess is looking out for her today that she had kept her long robe on. Quickly pulling it closed over her thighs, hoping she seems natural and not like she is currently sitting with a dildo buried deep inside her, Judy greets Jen with a tight smile. Judy prays she doesn’t look as flushed as she feels.

Jen looks her up and down, appearing to be trying to figure out why something in the room feels off.

_Fuuucckk._

“Are you okay? You seem a little… flustered?”

“Oh, yeah. Fine. I’m, um— I’m just trying to get this painting right,” Judy says, adding a light chuckle as she waves her paintbrush in the direction of the canvas, diverting Jen’s attention from her face for a brief moment. She has no idea how to process the fact she is sitting with eight inches of silicon buried inside herself while Jen is standing in front of her, completely oblivious, but she knows she can’t have Jen staring at her while she figures it out, fearing her flushed cheeks might hint at her experiencing something more than an artistic dilemma.

“Okay…” Jen mutters, not quite managing to stop the baffled frown from forming between her eyebrows as she scans over the canvas that looks like a rainbow of confetti is exploding on top of a purple snail shell. 

Thankfully Jen must decide not to question the artistic process and she turns back to Judy, “Well, I have to go pick up Henry from Holy Harmonies practice now but I just wanted to see if you’re up for joining me and that new wine later tonight?” 

“Sure, sounds great!” 

“Okay, see you later then.” Jen turns to leave, but just before she closes the door behind herself, she turns over her shoulder and adds, “Hope you figure out how to get your painting right.”

Finding no teasing in Jen’s tone, Judy lets out a harsh sigh of relief. Then she notes the adrenaline coursing through her veins and the burning heat radiating from her flushed cheeks and chest – delicious effects of almost being caught, fuelled in equal parts by guilt and arousal. 

Going back to the original deep purple paint, Judy swipes a thick line horizontally across the canvas, this piece now becoming a collage of two experiences. The before and after of Jen.

Judy glances down at her palette contemplatively, now enticed by the hotter colours, and dips a fresh brush into a deep red paint. 

As she begins to rock her hips again, feeling the hot wetness dripping down her thighs, flames begin appearing from the bottom of her canvas. Flashes of reds and oranges and yellows continue to emerge as Judy begins thrusting down on the cock. She catches her mind wandering to Jen seeing her like this. Imagines Jen watching her as she fucks herself, rough and deep. 

Suddenly she’s clenching around the toy inside her. Hard.

She adds flashes of white to the painting. With the fire burning across her canvas finally blazing as dangerously hot as her body feels, Judy comes with a strangled moan. She is vaguely aware it sounds something like _“Jen”._

–– 

Later that evening they are enjoying their new wine, wrapped under a blanket and watching Facts of Life on the outdoor sofa. Judy gets distracted when she glimpses the remnants of red and orange paint on her hands. She focuses intently on the deep red liquid in the glass her hands are wrapped around, urging her body to remain in control. 

During a commercial break Jen turns to Judy and asks about her new paintings, explaining that she saw them again earlier when she’d gone into the guest house to check for laundry.

“They look really cool all lined up next to each other but I just don’t think I get abstract art.”

Judy’s mind travels over the canvases she has lined up around the room, remembering the experiences that led to each: a mostly-blank white canvas with bursts of colour exploding from the centre from when she had tried a particularly strong new suction toy; a second much larger canvas smeared with paint transferred from her own naked body as she had fucked herself with her fingers…

She hears Jen continue, interrupting her inadvertent reminiscing.

“Like, are they meant to be something?” 

“I mean personally I think abstract art is supposed to inspire the viewer to see in it what they want, to examine how it makes them feel.” Judy glances over at Jen, trying to read her expression, “Did you see something?”

“C’mon, Jude. You know I think everything you do is great, but it’s a bunch of coloured lines and patterns? It doesn’t look like anything. How do you even decide where they go?”

“I guess I just feel it in the moment, whatever inspires me.”

“And what inspired these ones?”

“You really want to know?” 

Judy isn’t sure how Jen will react, knowing how flustered she gets whenever they remotely reference sex. At first Judy had assumed it was just another facet of Jen’s repressed emotions, but lately she has begun to wonder if it is more than that. Something about the heat she briefly catches in Jen’s eyes when she’s been caught staring at Judy for a little too long hints at her repression here coming in a different form, more physical, more raw. Or maybe Judy is projecting, hoping her feelings might be reciprocated.

“Why else would I ask?” Jen throws back, patience wearing thin. Judy decides to rip off the band-aid, so to speak, and tell Jen what she’s working on.

“The series is illustrating the beautiful and varied experiences of orgasms.” 

Jen chokes on her sip of wine, a blush instantly spreading across her cheeks. 

“Uhhh, that is not what I was expecting.” Jen glances towards Judy but quickly looks back to the safety of her wine glass. 

“I just think it’s such a rich area for inspiration. The body is _so_ responsive to different types of stimulation, and that’s especially true for most women. There’s so many experiences you can have with such diverse results, and it’s so hard to explain verbally so I thought painting would be such a good format for it!” Judy rambles. She can see Jen smiling while she listens, knows in her gut that Jen supports Judy in all her endeavours but is still pleased to see she hasn’t completely scared her off with this.

“I’m not sure I’ve experienced anything like those paintings... Not any time recently anyway.” Jen tries to laugh but Judy picks up on the vulnerability in her words.

“Oh Jen, we need to get you laid! You totally deserve to feel those flashes of colour.”

“I don’t think that’ll be happening any time soon but thanks for the enthusiasm.”

“You know I could help you out sometime, if you like.” Judy smirks, adding a wink for good measure.

Jen laughs at the return of Judy’s familiar flirting but the words appear to have left her more flustered than usual. And Judy is sure she sees Jen’s eyes flicker down to the paint on Judy’s hands. But before Judy can figure out her next move the commercial break finishes and Jen turns her attention back to the screen and takes a sip of her wine, signalling the end of the conversation. 

Judy can’t decide whether she’s disappointed or relieved.

––

It’s late one evening the following weekend when Judy is trying to paint the final piece in her series and once again Jen walks into the guest house. Judy is in a much less precarious position this time but is no less flustered. This piece was proving much more difficult than the others to get right.

“Hi, sorry. Was just coming to see if you wanted to join me outside but I guess you’re busy painting.”

“That sounds lovely, Jen! But yeah, I’m trying to finish up this last painting and I can’t get it right.” Judy tries and fails to mask her frustration.

“Why– Um, why is this one different?” Jen asks, caution obvious in her unsteady tone but Judy thinks she picks up on some genuine interest, too. Judy would usually jump at the opportunity to talk more about her work with Jen, but she’s not sure how much to tell her. Not sure how much will be too much. 

Bracing herself, she tries to talk around it the best she can.

“I guess with the others I could experience the thing I was interpreting at the same time as I was painting, to some degree anyway, but this one is only from memory. So the feeling isn’t as fresh in my mind and it’s trickier to get the shades and textures just right. It just doesn’t feel as organic as the others.” 

Against her will a flame has sparked within Judy as she speaks, her body reacting to the prospect of Jen finding out what she has been doing. At what Jen had unknowingly witnessed her doing. Guilt and arousal. Fear and anticipation. 

There’s a long pause before Jen speaks. Judy can see Jen working to piece together what she has just heard, the crease between her brow deepening briefly before eyebrows are raised and her jaw tenses. 

“Wait, ‘experience’? What do you mean? What was this giant one?” Jen asks, pointing at the largest canvas.

“Oh,” Judy urges herself to explain calmly and cooly. She’s a confident artist, comfortable talking about sexuality. She can tell Jen the details of her artistic process. No problem at all, it’s totally fine. “Well, I couldn’t figure out how to finger myself and hold the paintbrush at the same time so I put the paint on me, instead.”

“Oh my god,” Jen utters, a mixture of disbelief and curiosity dripping from her voice as she shifts her weight from one leg to the other. Her eyes widen as they dance across the other paintings and Judy follows them as they land on the painting she had been working on when Jen had barged in last weekend. 

“And when I walked in and you were painting that one? What was that?” 

“Ummmm, riding dick?” Judy offers, unable to meet Jen’s eyes for this particular admission. The now familiar guilt-tinged heat is starting to sit heavily on her chest.

“Wait, how were you...” Jen trails off, her face a picture of confusion. But Judy swears she can see a flush beginning to peak over the collar of her top.

“Dildos, Jen.”

“What?” Jen just stares at her for a moment, Judy willing her to catch up so she doesn’t need to spell it out. The air between them sits heavily until, “Jesus, Judy!” 

_There it is._

Desperate to break the tension, Judy reverts back to familiar flirting. “I don’t know, Jen. I think it turned out pretty great after your appearance.” 

Jen makes a rough noise like she can’t decide whether to laugh or to moan. 

Judy takes check of Jen’s body: flushed cheeks, chest heaving with deep breaths, darkened eyes unable to meet her own. Judy is well-acquainted with these signs; has intimate knowledge of what they so often lead to. Sensing they might be standing on the precipice of something great, Judy stays still, summoning up all her patience as Jen struggles to settle her obvious internal conflict. 

––

Jen scans over the array of paintings again, knowledge of their creation bringing with it a new light. Looking to one of the paintings they hadn’t discussed – streaks of black and white splattered haphazardly across the canvas – Jen can’t help but contemplate what filthy acts the walls of her guest house have witnessed. 

Her gaze falls to the largest canvas and visions of a naked, paint-covered Judy writhing on top of it imprint themselves on her brain. It’s not like she hadn’t imagined what Judy might look like while coming before (she has to process her building attraction to her best friend somehow, and she certainly couldn’t stop herself after their conversation last week) but it had always been abstract, distant somehow. But the image presented to her now is unbearably vivid, almost tangible.

Then the painting Judy had been working on when she had walked in catches her eye. The painting Judy had implied was influenced by her presence. 

Jen had noticed the additions that had been made since she had last seen it: sharp strokes of burning reds and oranges reaching vertically upwards, burning across the bottom of the canvas. That night, alone in bed after the revelation that Judy had been depicting orgasms, the flames had burned bright behind her closed eyes as she worked her vibrator between her legs. Afterwards, she thought she could understand Judy’s art better. Maybe the colours had been there all along and she had never thought to take note of them.

Now, though, she’s keenly aware that the flames appeared after Jen had left Judy alone, a dildo buried deep inside her. Jen had come that night imagining Judy painting an imagined orgasm, but now she knows that particular chain of imagination is one link shorter — Judy didn’t need to use her imagination, fucking herself while painting — and Jen realises she doesn’t want to have to imagine any longer either. 

Hazily wondering how quickly the painting had been finished after her exit, how many thrusts it took Judy to create these flames, Jen can’t ignore the arousal that has rapidly taken over her senses. Visions of a writhing Judy; skin prickling under the weight of the heavy air between them; the sounds of her shallow breaths floating to her ears, Judy’s melodic exhales joining them.

Turning towards the newest, unfinished canvas currently perched on the easel – carefully avoiding Judy’s scorching gaze, for now – Jen inhales deeply. With the next exhale Jen centres herself, urging her body to follow its clear desires, to take a leap she couldn’t fathom making mere moments ago. 

––

Seeing Jen take a deep, steadying breath and resetting her posture while turning to look at the current work in progress, Judy feels the anticipation buzzing through her veins. And when Jen takes a sure step forward towards the easel, towards her, Judy bites a lip between her teeth to stop herself from breaking the moment with too eager words, urging herself to wait for Jen’s lead.

“And what is this one you’re struggling with supposed to portray?” Jen questions, gesturing at the canvas in front of Judy, a mess of pink lines and swirls.

“Cunnilingus.” 

“Judy! Ew.”

Judy chuckles and rolls her eyes. 

“What? Is _‘getting eaten out’_ better?” she offers in a sultry tone. “But it’s been a while and I’m struggling to capture the vibe. I guess since the others were… immersive, and this one can’t really be. Not without help, anyway.” 

There is no mistaking Jen’s clear arousal now but Judy isn’t sure if Jen will be ready to lean into it. She thinks she might be, prays she’s reading the signs correctly. There’s only one way to find out.

“Maybe you could help?” Judy offers, bracing herself as she brings her eye up from the canvas to meet Jen’s. 

Judy finds the familiar sea green pools swimming with a depth and heat she has only caught glimpses of before. She can sense the undeniable undercurrent of vulnerability, but the surface is still and sure and glistening, endlessly enticing, begging her to dive in. 

Offering a soft smile, Judy meets the eye contact with a gaze she hopes conveys that she wants this, wants to experience this with Jen, specifically. That she can see Jen wants it too, and that it’s okay to want it. It seems to work.

“I haven’t done that since college. I’m not sure it would be art-worthy.”

“Jen, I definitely want to hear more about this college experience another time – you’ve been holding out on me!” Judy beams at Jen revealing a new layer of herself. Then she’s reaching out for Jen’s hand and continuing earnestly, “And I am so sure you could help me create something truly beautiful, if you’re interested.” 

Judy is still preparing to laugh off the rejection, but her body is on another wavelength all together, readying itself to welcome the tidal wave of Jen’s intensity she has imagined time and time again.

“Okay.” 

“Wait, really?” 

“I mean, if it will help you finish and I can get my wine drinking partner back.” Jen gulps nervously, masking it quickly with a forced calm laugh.

“Ah yes, wine consumption is always a great motivator.” Judy giggles with a wink. She gives Jen’s hand a light squeeze of reassurance before deciding the best route forward is simply to begin.

Judy stands from her stool, facing Jen, and reaches for the ties of her silk robe. Giving it a pull, she lets the robe fall slowly from her shoulders, revealing a matching black lace bralette and underwear. 

“I just think it will help with the experience,” Judy offers in explanation upon seeing Jen’s shocked expression. Boldened by the deepening flush on Jen’s cheeks, Judy reaches for the hem of her oversized t-shirt, “Don’t you think it should be the full experience, Jen?”

“Um, I guess that makes sense.” Jen responds after a moment, reaching to quickly rid herself of her t-shirt and baggy pyjama pants, leaving her underwear in place.

“Wow. You’re so beautiful, Jen.” Judy almost whispers along with a gentle smile, eyes not-so-subtly travelling up Jen’s body. 

Being met with a nervous smile, Judy moves to put a fresh canvas on her easel and sets out a few clean paintbrushes to her side. Supplies prepared, Judy grabs a large, soft cushion from the daybed and puts it on the floor between her stool and the easel. 

Catching the clear signal, Jen kneels, settling down between the legs of the easel. Judy pulls the stool in close, placing her legs either side of Jen’s body. She’s shocked by how quickly Jen reaches out for Judy’s thighs, hands momentarily still as she’s captivated by the lace in front of her eyes. Then she’s looking up at Judy with blown pupils and a lip pulled gently between her teeth. 

Before she can get distracted by Jen’s intoxicatingly kissable lips, Judy breaks eye contact. She picks up her brush, dabbing it in paint, and begins to paint languid lines across the top of the canvas in a soft shade of pink (the colour not dissimilar to Jen’s lips, she notes). 

“You’re painting already? I haven’t even touched you yet.”

“The anticipation is part of the experience, Jen.”

The wandering lines continue as Jen leans down and explores Judy’s thighs with her mouth, the long licks and wet kisses littering every inch of skin being transferred to the canvas. 

Judy’s breath hitches as she feels Jen bring her hands up to the waistband of her underwear, Jen’s hot gaze meeting her own. Judy offers a quick nod and Jen tugs the lace slowly down her legs before languidly kissing her way back up again. 

When she reaches the dampness between Judy’s thighs a moan rumbles in her throat. Judy can feel it reverberate against her skin and traces its pattern onto the canvas. And as the pleasure begins to coil deep in Judy’s core, the lines she paints start to twist; the movements of her wrist forming the painted curves becoming tighter. Firmer.

She feels Jen’s fingers move to open her up. Jen’s warm breath hits her wet heat and in the exquisite moment of anticipation, preparing for the touch she desires, Judy adds a darker pink to her brush. 

Then Jen’s tongue is swiping gently through her folds for the first time and with a gasp her brush meets the canvas again; her strokes change to something more ragged. More raw. 

Jen’s exploration quickly becomes more certain, tongue tracing firm patterns up one side of Judy’s clit and down the other, making sure to avoid where she needs her most. When Jen finally thrusts her tongue inside Judy, again and again, over and over, the middle of the canvas is filled with unfinished brushstrokes as Judy’s breath hitches and hips jerk. 

Feeling her clit pulsing, begging for relief, Judy picks up a new brush and dips it in a paint she had mixed earlier – an even deeper shade of pink with a gold shimmer through it – poised and ready for Jen to deliver the contact she craves.

As if on cue, Jen’s tongue moves up through her wetness, travelling in a wide circle around her clit before licking decisively over the centre of her pleasure. With a barely-concealed squeal, Judy’s brush collides with the canvas. One, two, three. Her brush matching Jen’s tongue, stroke for stroke.

Then Jen is wrapping her lips around Judy’s clit, tongue flicking out in featherlight touches.

“Fucckkkkkk”

The fourth stroke becomes a splodge of shimmering paint as Judy’s eyes slam closed and she momentarily forgets how to breathe.

“Oh my god, Jen. Yes! Right there. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Encouraged by Judy’s incantations, Jen continues to gently suck Judy’s clit into her mouth, offering flicks of her tongue over the swollen nerves in a staccato rhythm. At that, the paint is carelessly smeared across the canvas, falling off the edge as the brush drops from Judy’s grasp. With the next firm stroke of Jen’s tongue Judy’s whole body tenses, back arching, hand slamming into the canvas in front of her.

Jen moves to pull back but Judy throws out a paint-covered hand grasping at Jen’s shoulder and keeping her in place.

“Don’t you dare fucking stop.”

Judy feels more than hears the moan that slips from Jen’s throat which causes her to grip harder at Jen’s shoulder, hand slipping down her back to her shoulder-blade as she pulls her impossibly close, inadvertently making Jen’s skin her canvas. 

Realising her tight grip probably won’t be helping Jen’s ever-aching back, Judy reluctantly lets her hands slide down Jen’s arm, finally settling her grasp to her own thighs as Jen’s tongue works fervently through her slick heat. A light graze of Jen’s teeth over her clit followed by delicious pressure has Judy’s tension building to a toe-curling crescendo, a scream of pleasure ripped from her throat as her hips buck wildly and she throws her head back in unadulterated delight.

“Wow.” Judy sighs breathlessly as she slumps back and smiles down at Jen, chest sweaty and heaving, eyes shining with pure bliss.

“I don’t think you quite managed to capture the full experience on the canvas, Jude,” Jen smirks as she looks up at the painting.

“Oh, I disagree. I think it _perfectly_ expresses the experience.”

Jen looks down trying to hide a smile and Judy catches a glimpse of Jen’s paint covered shoulder sitting neatly next to her own thigh, pink and shimmering. 

“Wait, don’t move!”

Judy stretches round to the table behind her, grabbing her phone with her paint-free hand. Opening her camera she gently repositions Jen’s hair down her back, blonde hair complementing the golden shimmer of the paint beautifully in the warm lamp-light.

“What are you do–”

“Just trust me, please.” 

Jen sighs but doesn’t try to move. Judy captures their paint covered bodies from multiple angles, reaching to move Jen’s body to hit the light just right, until she finally gets the perfect composition.

“Okay, look.” She turns her phone to Jen. “Now that’s art.”

Jen laughs as she reaches out to zoom in on the photo, “That is really beautiful, Jude.”

Looking between the canvas and the photo Judy can’t help but think these are her favourite pieces yet.

“You make an excellent muse, Jen.” 

“Anything else I can help with?” Jen asks, mouth twitching into an easy smirk. 

Judy can’t resist any longer, reaching out to pull Jen’s painted shoulder up towards her, crashing their lips together. Finally feeling Jen’s lips against her own is monumentally better than she had imagined. She gently nips at Jen’s lower lip before running her tongue over it. Jen responds eagerly, opening her mouth for Judy’s hungry tongue with a muted whimper. Tasting herself on Jen’s tongue, Judy moans before breaking away a fraction, sweaty foreheads resting against one another as hot exhales mingle between them.

“I’m sure we can think of something.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to know what you think!


End file.
